


Ristretto

by Volant



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Angst, Teacher-Student Relationship, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 21:32:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3356021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volant/pseuds/Volant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne just wants to finish her morning shift at the cafe so that she can concentrate on her schoolwork. Jaime doesn't let that happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ristretto

Free coffee is what gets Brienne out of bed in the morning. 

She might have to be up at five A.M., might have stayed up late to close last night, might need to study for a history test that’s due in three hours. But the prospect of making herself a Mélange before rush hour? At no charge? That’s just enough to get her out of bed, into her uniform, and behind the counter on time.

She’s unlocked the door, turned on the blinking “Open” sign, and is waiting for the espresso machine to warm up when the door swings open and the first customer walks in. Brienne greets Olenna Tyrell with a smile and a fresh biscotti. The elderly woman’s one of their best customers, and a good lawyer to boot; her services, Brienne’s been told, are _always_ to be appreciated.

Olenna sits at the little bar, sipping her Americano and watching Brienne finish prepping for the day. They don’t talk much—Brienne gets the feeling that neither of them are really morning people—but the routine is comfortable enough that they don’t need too. It’s almost 6:15 by the time Olenna slips Brienne her customary five dollar tip and sashays out the door. Now—if all goes according to schedule—there are fifteen minutes until the usual customers start to pour in. Just enough time.

Six months ago, Brienne didn’t have a clue what an extraction was, or how to get foam to sit on top of a drink in just the right way, or how to interpret the vast numbers of orders that she’d learned to memorize. By now, the process is almost therapeutic. Brienne twists the little silver knobs on the espresso machine and fills the little French press with ease, despite her large, clumsy looking hands. She can almost always tell when a drink is just hot enough to warm the hands, but still cool enough that it won’t burn the throat. She may not be too good with the customers, but she can turn something as simple as a Flat White into a work of art. Renly half-jokes that that’s the only reason he keeps her on.

Brienne’s just putting the final shake of cinnamon over a carefully prepared mug of over-caffeinated _bliss_ when the door swings open and the bell rings loud and clear; her eyes flick to the watch on her wrist. 6:23. It’s too early.

“Well, well, well.”

Brienne sighs, but when she looks up from the counter she’s smiling.

“Professor Lannister,” she says—chirps, in that pleasant I’m-here-to-help voice that she reserves specifically for tough customers. “How can I help you?”

Brienne wonders how he can look so good, even wrapped up in that thick winter coat with a knit hat pulled low over his ears. She’s had him for the last couple of semesters, even worked with him on a paper she’s hoping to present at the Crownland’s College Academic Fair.

“Long time no see, wench,” he says, and curls the gloved fingers of his good hand around the edge of the countertop. “Is this where you disappear to after class?”

Brienne doesn’t let her gaze linger on his face—he’s started growing a beard, and his hair’s actually brushed out of his green eyes for once— and makes a show of brushing her hands off. She will not let herself think about what had happened last Friday….last Saturday morning…

“What can I get you, professor?” she asks again, and grits her teeth.

“I trust you had a relaxing Valentine’s Day weekend?”

“Professor Lannister.”

“Didn’t I ask you to call me Jaime?”

“And didn’t I tell you that would be disrespectful?” Brienne leans forward a little. “Are you going to buy anything, professor?”

“Hm,” he shrugs and begins to peel off his gloves, finger by finger. “That depends.”

“Depends on what?”

For a moment, that omnipresent smile of his freezes in place. Their eyes meet and Brienne’s mind goes into overdrive. Slow kisses, lips on her neck, hands sliding down her hips. Then he clears his throat and the moment’s gone.

“Something small,” he says, and Brienne tells herself that she’s only imagining the softness in his voice. “And not too bitter. Remember, I’ve got that seven A.M. class?

“I remember.” Brienne reaches beneath the counter and extracts a glass, just bigger than the shot glasses that she uses to make extractions. “Did you visit family?”

“What?”

“Over the weekend. Did you visit your family?”

“Ah,” he grimaces, and shrugs off his coat. “No. Mine was more of a work weekend, I’m afraid.”

“Same here,” Brienne tells him as she tamps coffee grounds and loads them into the brew pump. She decides that perhaps small talk is the way to go. “This is my second consecutive shift. Thank the gods for overtime pay, huh?”

“How much sleep did you get last night?”

“Enough.” Brienne checks her watch again as espresso begins to pour from one of the little spouts. “I like to stay busy, you know that.”

“There are bags under your eyes.”

“You’ve got them too,” Brienne snaps. “What, are we going to compete for who’s the most exhausted now?”

“Brienne.”

“ _Jaime_.” She moves the cup over so she’s facing him again.

His laugh begins so abruptly that she almost jumps.

“What?” she asks, and dusts the edges of the drink with cinnamon.

“I was beginning to think that you were going to carry on that ‘professor’ business forever.”

Brienne scowls at him, but slides the drink carefully across the counter just as the door swings open yet again. She shuffles back to the register and takes orders from a group of impatient students ( _if you’re in such a hurry_ , she thinks as one of them taps their foot, _why did you order a fucking Frappuccino_ ). She works quickly, and tells herself that that’s the reason she won’t meet Jaime’s eyes. She knows he’s watching her—sitting on that stool, sipping his drink and probably smiling, damn him. It’s only as she finally finishes the order, and the group takes themselves out into the frosty air that he actually speaks.

“I’ve never had this before. It’s very good.”

Whatever Brienne was expecting, it certainly wasn’t praise. Something sarcastic, maybe—that’s always been more his speed than a straightforward compliment.

“I mean it,” he says when she stops and blinks at him. “What’s it called?”

“It’s,” Brienne swallows and adjusts her visor. “It’s called a Ristretto, actually. You wanted something short and sweet.”

“No,” he said, and his eyes drop from her face to…lower. “That’s not quite true.”

“Isn’t it?” Brienne says as she takes back his empty cup and refuses to acknowledge the innuendo, “I’m pretty sure that’s what you asked for.”

“I asked you to stay the night,” he growls. “I didn’t tell you to leave.”

“You’re the one who _left_ ,” Brienne hisses, and slams the cup down so that she can lean over the counter, over him. “Unlike some people, I can take a hint.”

“It wasn’t a hint, it was—“

“I don’t need an excuse, Jaime.”

He pushes back his stool and stands so that they’re almost eye to eye. “I am not,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to clutch at her collar, “making excuses.” He presses his lips to hers briefly. It’s more of a peck than anything.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Brienne chokes out, breathless. “I’m your student.”

“Where was that logic three days ago?” he whispers into her neck. “We could’ve used it.”

“Shut up,” she says. “Kiss me again.”

He does, and when she pulls away again they’re both breathing heavily.

“You know my office hours?” he asks, and she nods. “Good. Pay me a visit after your shift ends and we’ll discuss some…extra credit work.”

She laughs. “You’re joking.”

“Only half.” He winks and straightens his tie. “Now, I have this seven A.M. class, remember, so I have to leave for a little while…”

“Shut up.”

“I’m not abandoning you....”

“You’re sick.”

“Just making sure we’re on the same page again,” he laughs and leans over the counter to peck her on the mouth again. “Don’t work too hard.”

“Well, that’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

“I’ll see you, wench.”

“Call me that again, I dare you.”

“Oh no,” Jaime whistles, “I’m so afraid,” and then slides out the door. Brienne clears her throat, and turns to view the cue of customers that had formed during her…discussion with Jaime. Her cheeks begin to burn.

“Okay,” she stutters. “Which one of you was here first?”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentines Day everybody! I hope you guys enjoy this attempt at a coffee shop au. As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.


End file.
